


late nights & bright lights

by varulve



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 15:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9189380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varulve/pseuds/varulve
Summary: inspired bythis quote& ginnyspitch @ tumblr's tags





	1. Chapter 1

Ginny was almost asleep, lights off and tv blaring, when her phone started to ring. She shut her eyes for a second and took a breath before rolling over and blindly felt around with her good arm until she came into contact with her phone.

Mike.

Of course it was Mike, he’s the only person who’d call her this late after one of her PT days. Everyone else knew better, but Mike… Well when he cared to pay attention he was too stubborn to respect that she was exhausted (mentally, physically, and emotionally) so of course he’d call. She let her phone ring a few more times before picking it up. “Look old man I-”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry I just,” she sat up a little in her bed frowning at the way his voice quavered. “She fucking did it again Ginny,” there was no venom, no heat behind his words just quiet defeat. “Rachel I just,” his breathing hitched for a moment and Ginny felt around until she found her remote and hit the mute button.

She wasn’t often lost for words but this, “I’m sorry,” it felt like nothing. It felt as empty and hollow as she was sure he was feeling. “Lawson,” but that felt wrong too, impersonal and even as voices inside her head started to scream she sighed. “Mike, what do you need?” The stillness that followed made Ginny squirm, she carefully readjusted herself deeper into the bed.

“I need another drink,” his voice seemed a little bit lighter and Ginny half-smiled until he started to speak again. “But mostly I need to know- this wasn’t me right? I gave her everything this time, baseball never even came up, this wasn’t on me, right?” He sounded like he was very young and Ginny’s discomfort only doubled.

“It wasn’t you,” it came out quickly, probably too quick. Less reassuring and more appeasing, fuck she just wanted to get some sleep she wasn’t equipped for this conversation. “Mike she’s done this twice now to you, clearly this is something she has to deal with, but it’s not you,” she could almost picture him. Nursing some beer, tucked away in his glass house. The line stayed quiet and she searched for some other words of comfort she could give to him. “You-You don’t deserve someone who comes back, Mike,” she spoke softly and mentally cursed herself because that sounded wrong. “You deserve someone who never leaves, I mean,” Ginny clarified.

There was a harsh bark of laughter that she knew wasn’t coming from a place of amusement. “Shit rehab is turning you into a real thinker huh, rookie” he teased but he still didn’t sound right. There was still a sadness to his words that she hated. He was right when he said baseball hadn’t gotten in the way, he’d cut back on his own offseason training regiment, he hadn’t reached out to as many players over the holidays as he usually did. He had removed himself, as much as he could, from the game.

Hell they had barely talked, the two of them. He’d promised to be there every step of the way (which she knew was too good of a promise, too tempting for them both to break the tension that was undeniable between them). He had stopped texting her after PT days months ago. She didn’t know the last time they’d actually talked. She’d known why, but now she regretted not reaching out to him more. Maybe that would’ve helped lessen the blow, if he hadn’t isolated himself as drastically as he had.

“I should let you get some sleep,” he finally mumbled, after letting the quiet linger. She realized she hadn’t answered him when he’d teased her and felt silly, she’d spaced out so completely.

“Yeah,” she agreed and ran her palm over an eye, looking over at the time. Jesus how long had they been on the phone? They’d barely spoken, but it had been an hour- at least. She sighed, “you know I’m here for you - always, right?” She mumbled, it felt like a last ditch attempt to tell him something else, something she didn’t have the courage for.

“Of course I know that,” his voice was warm. For the first time in the call it suddenly felt like July again and he was teasing her about the homerun she’d let up in the All-Star game. A warmth spread out across her chest and she couldn’t help but smile to herself. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you,” his voice was soft now, and Ginny let out a sigh.

“I’d say it’s okay, but…” she teased lightly and enjoyed the more genuine laugh that rumbled out of him. “How about this, call me again tomorrow, at a more reasonable time, and we can catch up,” she worried her lower lip for a moment.

“It’s a date,” his voice wavered ever so slightly that Ginny wondered for a moment if she had misheard him. “Now, go to bed, I’m sorry I kept you up,” he spoke a little too quickly and Ginny quickly realize she had heard him correctly but he maybe hadn’t meant to say it.

“Yeah, yeah, sleep well Mike.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> once again brought to you by ginnyspitch @ tumblr's tags on [this post](http://ginnyspitch.tumblr.com/post/155366576454/sicsen-glow-blog)

They start talking again, regularly, after that night. First it was just phone calls and texts, then he’d show up at her apartment (which he hadn’t been too yet and she had to give him directions) with takeaway or she’d go over to his place for dinner. It was nice, it was good to have her friend back. A lot of the tension that had existed before Rachel broke his heart again (and before Noah blew into her life as quickly as he blew out of it) had melted away. It felt like they had a chance to try again. Instead of rushing into something neither of them were ready for, they could try and just be friends.

He starts to pick her up after PT, because he knows that they are draining and sometimes the Uber drivers can be a little too pushy asking about her recovery. It’s easier, besides then he makes sure she gets an actual meal and not like three cans of grape soda. (He makes that joke exactly once and receives a sore spot on his arm where she smacks him for it). She doesn’t complain though, and usually him bugging her helps keep any sort of melancholy from seeping into her bones. 

(She called him once, after a PT that went bad and it was heartbreaking enough that he didn’t want to let it happen again. It hurt enough knowing he’d let her down in being there for her recovery, that there had probably been plenty of bad PT days where she had suffered in silence instead of putting that burden on Blip or Evelyn because they were dealing with their own shit).

Once she’s cleared her PT and is able to actually begin throwing again is when their walks start. First it was just around Petco after she hit the limited tosses she was allowed. Mike showed her all the nooks and crannies, every hidey-hole. He knew every inch of the stadium like it was the back of his hand, and he loved to see the way her eyes lit up. How her eyes would glaze over when he’d tell her stories about how Tony Gwynn - Mr. Padre himself - had given him a speech right there during his last season.

(Mike was the only player on the team who had actually played with Tony, and he wished that Ginny had gotten a chance to meet him, to have him watch her throw, before he passed).

Eventually their walks lengthen and exit the park. They walk along the Boulevard, stop at Lolita’s for tacos, sometimes go to the Tilted Kilt (which Mike swears by, but Ginny takes some convincing because Pubs aren’t really her style). It’s just easy, and neither of them really comment about how she starts to crash on his couch after these nights. (Or how that crash couching turns into Mike setting up one of his guest rooms for her).

Sometimes the walks don’t even connect with them working her arm. Instead it’s just a call one of them makes to the other with a question ‘hey have you ever been to-’ ‘tell me have I shown you-’ and they’ll walk and visit various locations across San Diego. The San Diego Union-Times does a story about them, and they both roll their eyes. 

Blip and Evelyn invite them over for dinner after that, and when it’s time for dessert purposefully split them up to grill them. To make sure nobody is making any mistakes. Both of them are honest, there is nothing going on between them. They’re just friends, they enjoy each other’s company.

(They both laugh about it as Mike drives her back to her apartment, he knows the route by heart now, and he tries not to think about the way her hand lingers on his arm as she laughs about the look Blip gave her while he sliced some pie).

The loud ringer, Fireworks (of course, she set it to that long ago as a prank, and he never got around to changing it), draws Mike from his sleep one night and he blearily gropes for his phone until he answers it. Ginny gives him an address, “it’s late Baker.” He grumbles even as he pushes himself up, bones crackling in annoyance at the unplanned disturbance. 

“I’ll see you in ten,” she says before hanging up. He groans into the dead line as he drags his tired body over to his closet. He pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a henley, heaving a heavy sigh as he forced his sleep-addled brain into gear.

He’s there in fifteen, she’s waiting in a too big Padres hoodie, leaning up against a wall. “I couldn’t sleep,” is the only explanation she gives him when he raises an eyebrow at her. “C’mon, I have something I want to show you.” She bumps her shoulder against his and starts walking.

Mike follows her, his hands shoved deep into his pocket, their elbows brushing as they walked. “So where are we going?” He asks after they’ve been walking a good five minutes, the silence wasn’t uneasy but he broke it out of pure curiosity. “Did you find some mural in my honor - even better, did you create a shrine for me down some alleyway?” He bumps his elbow against her side with a crooked grin, she meets his eyes and rolls hers.

“No,” is all that she says though. Mike heaves a heavy sigh and lets his hand slip out of his pocket. After another five minutes her hand has gently taken his. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let his breath hitch or give any indication that his heart rate just spiked like he was halfway through running a marathon. He gives her hand a gentle squeeze of recognition and keeps walking. 

After another five minutes his palm feels slick and it’s taking all of his energy not to look over at her and apologize, their fingers are locked together now, hands swinging absently between them. He’s nervous, he doesn’t know why, they’re friends, he reminds himself. 

(But friends don’t call each other at 3am to walk silently down a street holding hands, do they?)

“Okay,” she says stopping suddenly. “Do yo trust me?” There is a smile on her face that could outshine the sun, and Mike nods because of course he does. He’d trust her with his life if she asked that. “Shut your eyes,” she says reaching out to take his other hand. “I promise, it’s worth it.”

Giving her a skeptical look Mike shuts his eyes and lets her lead him five feet, ten feet, around a corner, and then to a stop. “Okay,” her voice rings out. “You can open them.”

He blinks and looks at her in confusion but she only nods towards a bright neon white sign. ‘Stay Away From Lonely Places’ it reads and he looks at her with a single arched eyebrow, half a smile on his face not speaking.

She gives him a quick half shrug and shoves her hands into the pouch of the sweatshirt, leaning against a nearby wall and looking up at the sign. “I came here a lot,” she says quietly. “When I started PT, it was an accident the first time. I just went for a run and got turned around, and I came across it. I made sure to mark it in my map, so I could find it again, and kept coming back here.” She slides down the wall and sits, hugging her knees. 

Mike’s shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his sweatpants again, alternating between looking at the sign and looking at Ginny. “I know,” she says again looking at him with a small smile. “It’s stupid but it was a good reminder, especially after the Noah fiasco,” she shrugs again and lets her head loll against her shoulder. 

“Thanks,” he says softly looking back at the sign. “For, y’know, everything,” but that didn’t feel right to say. Instead he heaves a sigh and carefully moves to sit next to her, his legs sprawled out on the sidewalk before him, bumping her arm gently with this. The warm weight of her head against his shoulder was familiar in a way he didn’t want to place. He let his head rest against hers and let their breathing sync up.

“We all need reminders,” her voice is quiet. “That we deserve better,” his eyes look down and meet hers. “Stay away from lonely places, Mike,” her voice is barely audible. 

“You too, Ginny,” his voice is stronger, there’s an unspoken promise that passes between them before he tears his eyes away to look back at the sign. They sit there for a long time until Mike starts to feel himself falling asleep. Ginny hops up and offers him her good arm, he gets back up slowly and they walk back, hand in hand, to his car.

She crashes in her guest room that night.


End file.
